


The Nature of Darkness

by LadyLoec



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: F/M, Gen, Magic, POV Feyre Archeron, Showing Off, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 07:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLoec/pseuds/LadyLoec
Summary: Rhys is tutoring Feyre in magic, and she gets frustrated and has a little outburst. He gets to show off a bit.





	The Nature of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Oneshot set during ACOMAF - after Rhys's nightmare, but before they visit the Hewn City.

Today's lesson was not going well.  
  
"Concentrate. You control the fire, it doesn't control you. Again"  
  
Three illusions stood in front of me. Wisps of shadow in the shape of men that Rhys had created to help me practice. I had been trying (and failing) to direct a whip of flame to the middle one without hitting the other two. So far, I'd hit the left one twice, the right one once, singed the nearby tree, and not touched my actual target in the middle.

 

I was already soaked with sweat and panting hard, I threw everything into my training - having been denied any opportunity to better myself by Tamlin, I felt I owed myself and my trainers at least that much. With the others though, especially Cassian, it felt natural to give myself over to the task at hand. Though I was sore and aching when we were through, my swordsmanship and endurance was certainly seeing the benefit. But training with Rhys was different: He pushed my buttons, got me irritated and flustered and made it hard to concentrate. Part of me knew it was because my powers were tied to my emotions, and that emotional control was as important to practice as the magic itself, but it still felt as if I was making little to no progress - running in place.

 

I steeled myself and took a breath as I felt the flame whip form in my hands. Another breath, slower this time, I drew it back, closed my eyes and - _crack_.  
  
A hiss of pain. "Son of a Bogge's harlot. What in the name of the mother, Feyre?!"  
  
I dared a glance over to Rhys... who was assessing the new and decidedly lash shaped burn on his forearm. It looked deep.  
  
"Oh gods, I'm so sorry"  
  
"Were... Were your eyes actually CLOSED?!"   
  
"Of course not... Well maybe for a moment"  
  
Something like anger... No, frustration, burned in his eyes. "How in the hell do you expect to hit a target you can't even see?"  
  
Water was easier, I could conjure water animals with barely a thought now, and had extensive control over them. Even my ice magic was coming along relatively well, but fire... I'd wondered if it was because it was Beron's magic, and it knew he would resent my possessing it, let alone using it. Or because it made me think of Lucien, of the friendship I had lost. Whatever the cause, I couldn't get the fire to listen to me. This time, I'd hesitated and shut my eyes, and Rhys ended up hurt (nothing permanent - he was already starting to heal, but even so). I knew I'd screwed up, knew I was in the wrong, but after a day of frustrating lack of progress, something in me snapped at Rhys' tone.  
  
"And your shadow puppet parlour tricks are so taxing, oh powerful and exalted High Lord?" the venom and sarcasm dripping from my voice was childish and petulant, and I honestly had no idea what was coming out of my mouth "I am working my ass off here, and in all the time we've been training, you've shown me nothing even vaguely impressive. Not even to demonstrate. I have the power of seven of your brethren, SEVEN." Why couldn't  I stop talking? "Maybe you're so hard on me because you don't like the idea that I might be more powerful than you."  
  
The clack of training blades behind us stopped. Even the forest nearby went deathly silent. I regretted my little outburst long before I'd even finished the sentence. My gaze fell to his eyes, normally such a calm shade of violet even in the most testing of times. Now they were almost black and brimming with violent promise. But not the hot-blooded rage I'd been expecting - gods only know Tamlin might have beaten me to death if I had spoken to him like that. They were almost... Playful?  
  
A positively wicked smile spread across his face as he stalked slowly towards me. "It sounds as if the lady is requesting a demonstration. Well, I suppose that is only fair." He lifted his arm and gestured to the fading scar from the flame whip. "You showed me yours. Allow me to reciprocate". He stopped a few feet from me to sketch a mocking bow, then raised his head, and blew sharply.   
  
Like snuffing out a candle, the flames I hadn't noticed were still dancing at my fingertips went out. And so did the blinding noonday sun. He plunged the clearing into total darkness. Possibly the whole of the night court territory - It seemed infinite.  
  
A directionless voice, neither whisper nor shout, but somehow both at once, found me in the gloom: "Do you recall what I once told you about darkness, Feyre?"  
  
My mental shields were up, but what use are walls against something as abstract as shadows? As easily as slipping through a curtain, he reached into my mind and pulled out the memory he was referring to. I shuddered at how easily he had entered my psyche, but the intent was not invasive and he didn't touch the rest of my mind - a simple illustration of his command of that brutal daemati magic.  
  
"There...there are different kinds?" I remembered some of the ones he had listed that day when I'd been sparring with Cassian - the day I'd broken down and burned through his sparring pads - and already I wasn't looking forward to this.  
  
"Very good"  
  
Instantly the darkness around me shifted. It became a living thing of trepidation and panic. Hideous shapes formed in the corners of my eyes but dissipated when I turned to face them. Intangible hands, cold and spectral, brushed my skin. I could faintly see my breath misting in front of me, and a chill ran down the back of my neck. It was all I could do not to scream into the endless void at the ghostly apparitions, the nightmares made flesh that were taunting me. I wanted to panic and thrash and vomit and cry until I woke from this nightmare. But I willed myself into calm, and rationalised. Rhys was still my teacher, and if this were a test...  
  
_The... The darkness that frightens?_  
  
A gentle approval down the bond.   
  
The darkness shifted, and gone were the wraiths and the fear. In their place, a gentle caress of shadows. My stomach settled and my pounding heart slowed and calmed. It was warm and comforting and familiar. The same I had felt that night he had helped to chase away my terror at the nightmares that haunted me. I smiled weakly - this one was easy.  
  
_The darkness that soothes._  
  
Another nod of approval down the bond.  
  
Once again, I felt the darkness change, and I was in freefall, but standing still. Suffocating, but somehow still breathing. A howling abyss of emptiness and nothingness - a tear in the fabric of everything that was and ever shall be, pushing and pulling me in every direction. Any description I could give would fall short, but it was a terrible thing, a thing made of madness - this was _..._ frenzied, infinitely worse than mere fear. _I'm not sure I told you about this one_ he said, but I knew it regardless - had experienced something like it once before. This was the darkness that had roiled and swam around me that night in the townhouse. That night I'd woken him from whatever horrors had tormented him _. The darkness of chaos._ _  
_  
I was beyond relieved when it quieted. If I never experienced that again, it would be too soon, and a momentary pang of sadness at what he must've felt that night to summon that kind of darkness, at what he had endured. I cast my senses around me. It was still near pitch black, but there was a stillness now, diametrically opposed to the raging maelstrom that preceded it. There was a soft glow to this darkness, like a shaft of moonlight through a bedroom window. Peaceful and calm, like drifting into a slumber. Though I didn't want it to end, and I feared what would follow it, I responded.  
  
_The darkness that is restful_. I said with confidence.  
  
Nothing in the darkness itself seemed to change this time, but instead I became aware of shadows around me, concealment for whatever lurks within, and danger. Like walking home through dark streets. I saw Rhys appear in front of me, then drift away like smoke on the breeze before I could react. Though he had made no changes to his physical form except to expose his talons, elongate his canines, he was different. The way he moved was like one of the jungle cats I had read about - like the wolves that hunted in the forest, predatory and lethal. On instinct, I drew a dagger from my belt. I watched for any movement, a ripple in the night that would allow me to see him coming. A moment later, he was behind me - holding me in place with a sharp talon at my throat as he whispered in my ear "The darkness of assassins".   
  
I took my opportunity and flipped him as Cassian had taught me to do with larger opponents, but he was fast and grabbed me and we fell to the floor together. We landed and he rolled us so his weight had shifted on top of me, my blade and his talons and fangs vanished in a puff of smoke. The gloom still felt concealing, but no longer threatening. Like instead of concealing dangers, it was keeping us safe from prying eyes. He ran a hand down my cheek and pressed a kiss to my neck. Heat bloomed in me and I fought to keep from running my hands down his torso, from thinking about his leg pressed between my thighs and the growing ache there. In the least flustered voice I could manage, I breathed: "Let me guess, the darkness of lovers?". He laughed softly and I could feel the heat of his breath on my throat. I was almost disappointed when he stood and offered me a chivalrous hand to help me to my feet. As soon as I took it, the night around us dissipated, and gave way to the blazing midday sun. I blinked and squinted as my eyes adjusted again  
  
"Sufficiently more impressive than shadow puppets?" He asked. He rolled his shoulders slightly.  Not with effort, I realised, but with what might have been relief? Gods, that display was a mere flexing of the muscles of his magic.  
  
"I think so" I said, still a little breathless.  
  
"For the record," he said, releasing the hand I hadn't realised he was still holding, "I'd be delighted if you do turn out to be more powerful than me." He looked at me with unabashed pride, and I must have looked a little shocked. "I mean," he continued "it's exhausting being this impressive all the time." I pointedly rolled my eyes and he smiled.   
  
He gestured across the field and I dragged my eyes over to where three familiar shadowy figures had appeared. "Again" he commanded. I gave him a vulgar gesture as he retreated to a safe distance (which I didn't blame him for).  
  
I hit the middle one on the first try.


End file.
